


Just Another Wednesday

by Loopstagirl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 11:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loopstagirl/pseuds/Loopstagirl
Summary: Being the servant of the Crown Prince of Camelot was a horrible job. Until it wasn't.





	Just Another Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners.

Merlin decided, early on, that being manservant to the Crown Prince of Camelot was a horrible job. The prat was insufferable and his list of chores and duties extended every day, especially when Arthur was in a bad mood. He cleaned, he scrubbed, he lifted targets, he _was_ the target and had to save the prince’s life at least every other day and often twice on Wednesdays.

He should have gone back to Ealdor the instant he arrived in Camelot and saw a man’s head being chopped off for having magic. This wasn’t the place for him.

But he never left. And it stopped being quite so horrible. Arthur was a prat, but then Merlin started seeing through his tough exterior and realised how vulnerable the prince truly was. He also knew that he was the only one who had figured that out and wondered what it said about him that he knew Arthur better than anyone else, despite having only been in Camelot a year.

His duties changed, although Merlin knew he had brought it upon himself. Arthur had been wound up, snapping and snarling because Uther had taken his own temper out on his son and Arthur had no idea how to deal with the emotions it left him with. Merlin didn’t know what he had been thinking. He knew Gaius would say that he hadn’t been thinking.

But he somehow went from standing across the room to being in front of the prince. Then he had been on his knees, fingers fumbling. He could dress Arthur with his eyes shut, but his hands shook as he drew the prince’s breeches down. Arthur’s angry tirade disappeared as soon as Merlin swallowed him down.

He had muttered an excuse and fled, leaving Arthur satisfied in his chair, his legs no longer supporting his weight. But the prince hadn’t been angry when Merlin had finally slipped back in later that day. He had thought it was a brilliant idea.

Things weren’t the same after that. His hand in the bath. His mouth after training or when Arthur was riled up. Then, finally, after weeks of dancing around it, his body most evenings. Sometimes mornings as well. Especially on Wednesdays – it was easier to protect him if he didn’t let Arthur out of bed.

To Merlin’s surprise, however, it wasn’t all one way. After an argument with Gaius about his magic (although Arthur didn’t know that), Merlin had been trying to calm himself down by scrubbing Arthur’s laundry. It wasn’t working. But then lips had pressed against his neck and a hand had slipped down _his_ breeches. Merlin had clung to the wash tub in a desperate attempt to remain upright as he realised that Arthur was good at this.

It wasn’t just the sex, though. Arthur opened up when he was sleepy and content in bed. Merlin knew he was the same, although he was careful to control his magic when his hands were scrunched into the sheets and Arthur was on top of him. Opening his legs had somehow made them both open their hearts.

A year of being in Camelot and Merlin knew he was falling for his prat of a destiny. If the looks Arthur sometimes shot him – confused and slightly alarmed – were anything to go by, Arthur was feeling the same.

“ _Mer_ lin, you complete _idiot_!” Arthur’s voice reached his chambers at least a minute before the prince himself arrived. Merlin was sitting on the floor, Arthur’s helmet in his lap. He quickly snatched the rag out of the air and started physically cleaning the armour himself.

Arthur burst through the door, a scowl on his face. He harrumphed at seeing Merlin sitting on the floor and tossed his cloak on the bed.

“Idiot,” he repeated.

“Care to be more specific?” Merlin said. He couldn’t think of anything he had forgotten to do – despite Arthur’s complaints, he was good at his job. At least, parts of it. He just didn’t like cleaning and never would.

“You left me in that meeting for hours.”

“Your father threw me out last time,” Merlin protested, remembering all too well the furious look on Uther’s face. “I thought it would be better like this.”

“How was I supposed to get out of it without my servant making an idiot of himself and me having to escort him out to take his punishment in hand?”

“You wanted me to mess up just so you didn’t have to stay?” Merlin stared up at his master, incredulous. Arthur had the decency to look ashamed before he shrugged and threw himself on the bed. He stretched with a groan and Merlin quickly looked away as his shirt rose up a slither.

Hearing Arthur’s chuckle, he knew he was blushing.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up,” Merlin said. He threw the rag at Arthur, missed spectacularly and watched as it settled back to the floor only a few paces away. Arthur chuckled again before sitting up.

“I need to train.”

Merlin nodded absently, standing up. But he had underestimated how long he had been sitting cross-legged on the floor for and both his legs cramped. He stumbled, and suddenly Arthur’s arm was around him.

“Honestly, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice softer. “I’m only back for a few moments and you’re throwing yourself at me.”

Merlin felt his blush intensify. “Shut up,” he repeated, pushing ineffectively at Arthur’s chest to try and make the man let go.

“Make me.”

Merlin never backed down from a challenge any more than his master did. His fingers snaked into Arthur’s hair and he pulled him forward, kissing him. Deepening it, he bit down until Arthur yielded and, with a satisfied smirk, he dominated it. When he pulled back, Arthur was the one with a flush on his cheeks.

“You’ve got training to get to,” Merlin said, finally stepping away. Arthur’s armour was scattered around his chambers but Merlin knew where each piece had landed. It took him no time at all to expertly slot the pieces onto Arthur’s body, fingers weaving the buckles with ease.

Once Arthur was in his armour, Merlin gave him a nudge towards the door.

“Go,” he said. Arthur lifted an eyebrow.

“Giving me orders?”

“No,” Merlin said. “Yes. Maybe. You’ve got training to get to.”

Arthur chuckled as Merlin fumbled for the right words. He slid his sword through his belt and grabbed Merlin’s chin, kissing him firmly before leaving the room. Merlin shook his head fondly as the door banged behind the prince. Arthur always had to have the final say, no matter what.

Merlin didn’t stay in Arthur’s chambers. His chores were already done and Gaius required his assistance as well. He returned to his mentor, trying not to think about Arthur drilling his men. He tried not to think of Arthur, period.

Just as he suspected, Gaius had a basket waiting for him, a list of herbs scrawled on a piece of parchment. Merlin grinned as he pocketed it. He liked helping Gaius – he knew the difference it made to people when the right herbs where administered in the right doses. This was a skill he could be open about.

But it didn’t mean that he liked pouring over the books as the old man drilled him about what poultice he would apply to an infected wound. If the alternative was being out in the forest, enjoying the last of the summer sun while he found the correct herbs, then there was no choice at all.

Merlin completed Gaius’ list and was back in time to help Arthur with his bath and change to dine with his father. Uther had had enough of Merlin spilling things (usually because Arthur was groping where he had no right to be touching in front of the king!) and had declared his own servants would wait on them that evening.

Once he had Arthur dressed and ready to go, Merlin had the rest of the evening to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure how that ended up with him half-sprawled across Arthur’s bed, his breeches down by his knees and Arthur’s mouth on him, but he wasn’t complaining.

His destiny left again with a self-satisfied chuckle. Merlin waved his hand once the door was shut, lighting the fire and pulling up the blankets. Arthur wasn’t going to have the last word tonight, not if Merlin had anything to say about it.

Not to mention the prince’s bed was far more comfortable than his own. Merlin intended to stay here to wait for Arthur to return. But the days chores had tired him more than he thought and he was asleep before Arthur got back. He didn’t hear the prince’s fond tut or feel Arthur slip into the bed next to him. Some part of his subconscious felt Arthur’s arm wind around his waist but Merlin was too far gone to react to it.

If this was what his destiny had planned, then maybe it wasn’t quite so horrible after all.


End file.
